Marching Orders
by TakaSobieFAnka
Summary: My lyric Llama #2, where we learn about the source of Hermione's strength. Inspired by the lyrics: "And I know it hurts and I know you feel torn, but you never gave up this easily before, so why do you choose today to give it all away…" from the song No Giving Up by Crossfade. I claim no ownership of it, I only used it as an inspiration.


Marching Orders

Lyric Llama #2

Harmony & Co (18+)

This fic was inspired by the lyrics:

"_And I know it hurts and I know you feel torn,_

_But you never gave up this easily before,_

_So why do you choose today to give it all away…"_

from the song No Giving Up by Crossfade. I claim no ownership of it, I only used it as an inspiration.

As usual, Harry Potter and original characters are not mine, but I thank J. K. Rowling she lets me play in her sandbox everyday.

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Since she was a young child, she learned how to be strong. She was ten by the time she was sat down by her grandpa, after a particularly bad day at school. Her grandpa was always her hero.

Sir John Kildare, for his military friends the one and only "Dare-you-Johnny", was the father of her mommy. He was a captain of the RAF, a fighter in World War II, career RAF afterwards. He ended up being an Air Marshal and, as a result, one of the longest and proudest careers in the Royal Air Force, also a Knight Commander of the Most Honourable Order of Bath. He was Hermione's constant support and a knight in shining armor when needed. Even kids at school knew how great and strong and … big of a person Grandpa Johnny was. He came into her school once, when the class was writing essays about their real life heroes and a suggestion came from the teacher that those available come in to class. So she asked him to come in, and he did. In style. Clad in his dress uniform, medals and ribbons all proudly presented on his chest, he entered her classroom just as the final bell rang in the hallways. He sat with her, as did most of the presenters and their guests. He pulled out her chair for her, gave her his arm as they walked to the front, and stood right by her as she talked about her hero. When the other children asked about all the decorations on his chest he patiently explained the meaning of every single one. For the rest of that week Hermione was the coolest kid in school and not even her bushy hair and her protruding teeth could change that. Everything went back to normal after the weekend though, but she was happy to note the amount of bullies went down. She still might have not gotten any friends but life was a bit easier for the young girl.

That day she remembered leaving school in tears, as most of the bullies in her school decided it was the "Pick-on-the-bushy-haired-bookworm-day", ever since she entered the school's premises. And Hermione even at ten was a smart cookie, she knew that she was better than them that she shouldn't have paid so much attention to the name calling and overall bullying… But that was a really bad day to pick… She left the house hearing the screaming match between her parents, which even then was an unheard of occurrence, and there was a feeling in the pit of her stomach that didn't want to leave her alone, and Cindy, the one girl she considered a friend-like person decided to join the bullies that day… In the end, her barricades where down, non-existent really. The tears poured from her eyes freely during the day and the only thing that kept her in school was the promise from her Grandpa Johnny to come pick her up. So when the final bell called an end to the school day she was the first one to run thru the front door, uncaring of chaperones calling her to slow down. She ended up running straight to her grandpa's arms, almost completely forgetting the misery of the day she had. Grandpa took her for ice cream, and walked to the nearby park. At some point, they sat on the bench under the old chestnut tree, a bunch of spikey green capsules in her hands, even more so in her grandpa's hat. Breaking the burrs apart, she took out the brown shiny nuts, already planning on the figurines she would create out of them. She rambled to her companion, what each and every one of them looked like. It took a bit of time, and his pushing her on the swings before she started speaking about her day.

She talked about her parent's argument in the morning, how afraid it left her, about Cindy's actions at school, and that weird feeling in her stomach again, which happened when there was some big news coming up into her life. They talked for a little while, working thru the day's events in Hermione's favourite way, logically.

And then he asked her one thing that she had not wondered in her entire life:

\- Do you know why my friends call me Dare-you-Johnny?

\- Because you always accepted a dare?

\- Yes, but not only did I always accept it, I also always succeeded them. And I will tell you a secret right now too, ok?

\- Sure, grandpa. I promise to keep it a secret too.

\- Thank you sweetie. So… this secret... my biggest secret of all is… I wasn't terrified by the ones that I was to do while fighting, or even here on the ground, when my friends wanted me to do all the different things. But the ones I was afraid of the most… it involved this stranger I met in the pub while the war was still taking place.

\- Why did that scare you the most Grandpa? Was that stranger mean looking?

\- No honey, in fact she was the most beautiful person in that room.

\- Was THAT what scared you so bad?

\- A little bit, but not exactly…

\- Hmm… was she dangerous? Was she a spy?

\- You have no idea how much… But, let me tell you the full story. I was just a little bit older that you, a few days from my nineteen birthday, and I was already in the Royal Air Force for a bit over a year by then. We were to depart for the front lines later that week and a few of my friends and I left to have some fun. Now, I am not the most terrible at dancing but I am no virtuoso either and as a result I don't dance often. And all of my friends knew that. We sat in the room, and then this woman came in and most eyes turned to look at her. She greeted her other female friends, not aware of the eyes on her, and sat down at their table. She sat just in my line of sight and for the entire night I sneaked quite a few looks at her. Of course my friends noticed. They were laughing at me, saying I was smitten and the truth was… I noticed something that day in her. They challenged me to get out there, ask her to dance and if I was lucky enough steal her a kiss. That was the very first time when I actually considered forfeiting a dare. The thought of getting up and talking to what everyone and I included considered the most beautiful human being made me scared, legs shaking, palms sweating scared. And then the most amazing thing happened.

\- What was it, Grandpa? What happened next? – the excited girl sitting next to him asked, her eyes shining. She loved when he told her stories from the war.

\- She smiled at me, sweetheart. But it was a magical smile…

\- But Grandpa! There is no such thing as magic! How can a smile be magical?

\- Well, listen and you will know… She looked at me, and smiled. You don't believe in magical smiles but this one definitely was. She had a smile that reached her eyes, making them sparkle, and the effect it had on me…. I wasn't even aware when I stood up and moved towards her but there I was, standing in front of her, legs shaking and sweating palms forgotten as I was asking her to dance. We danced the entire night away and when I admitted we were to be shipped out she agreed to give me her address and we stayed in touch the entire time the war took place. Many times the letters from her were what kept me sane at the front.

\- And did you get to steal the kiss?

\- For that she had made me work a bit harder, so no, not that day. After I returned from war, I went to look her up, wanting to visit, maybe even get a date. I knocked on her door, flowers in hand and she opened with that magical smile… and a toddler on her hip. To say I was surprised is an understatement. I was also terribly hurt, and my very first instinct was to leave, run away and never come back. But then she invited me in, and me being quite curious, still love struck and mostly just desperate to understand what was happening followed her in. She lead me in, gave me a hug, saying how happy she was to see me back alive and we started talking. She told me how the last few years were not easy for her, about her short but fruitful marriage to the son of her father's best friend, who was terminally ill and without a son to inherit the family fortune. She told me about his recent death, not even a full year after the baby was born and although I was hurt I and I was feeling torn, because to be honest, she had a baby now and I didn't know how I exactly felt about it. After I came back home, I talked to my father and at the end he said to me, and I believe I quote him now: a_nd I know it hurts and I know you feel torn, but you never gave up this easily before, so why do you choose today to give it all away…" _I knew I wouldn't give up on her after that.

\- How did it all end, Grandpa?

\- What if I told you that her name was Jane and her baby boy was named Ricky, after his father?

\- That's about Nana Jane and Uncle Ricky? Oh Grandpa!

\- Now you know. As for Cindy, she hurt you, sure but it doesn't mean you are to give up and stop trying to have friends. She is not the only one in this this world and one day you will meet a person who will put you in front of the others and be it a he or a she, they will care for you and be there for you, in bad times and the good ones too. But you cannot give up, you hear me young lady?

\- Yes sir – she responded with a salute he had taught her years before. She recognized an order and knew she will follow it, no matter how painful it would be until she met her best friend.

A few days later, on the day of her eleventh birthday, she learned (and her grandpa was there with her) that there really is magic in the world. That a fully grown woman could transform into a cat, not taller than her elbow, that a chair could be a transfigured into a dog and a crystal into violin.

Fifteen months later she sent a letter to her Grandpa, from a school in far-away Scotland, that she had finally found the one person she would from now on safely call a best friend. His name was Harry Potter, and he saved her life from a troll on Halloween night. Since then her letters were full of their adventures, and smiles and laughs. Even when danger and disagreements had started appearing in them, she mentioned Harry at her side without fail.

And he wasn't too surprised that years later it was the one and only Harry Potter that waited on the end of the aisle for her.

She never admitted to him that she gave Harry the same order that he gave her at barely ten years of age. True, it was after Ginny ended up being an utter fame-hungry bitch of a witch and their relationship stopped existing, but it was more than appropriate, she thought. The devastation she saw Harry in after his original bout of anger passed reminded her of that one day at the park after Cindy's betrayal, more than fifteen years ago.

She mentioned to him, over his gravesite, that Harry and her gave the same marching orders to all of their kids, whenever they needed it. That order was then given to every generation of the Potters (and whoever needed it as well) that followed and immortalized in memoirs and after a while became a family motto as well.

And if at some point, one of Potter's friends wrote a song about it… well, what could they say… ;)

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Please let me know what you guys think. It went in a bit different direction than I planned, but then again, the Muse has its own idea.


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